


my heart is an adventurer

by herax



Category: Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt Cal Kestis, Hurt/Comfort, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23775949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herax/pseuds/herax
Summary: Cal has an unfortunate skungus encounter. Merrin helps. (Mostly.)
Relationships: Cal Kestis/Merrin
Comments: 13
Kudos: 156





	my heart is an adventurer

**Author's Note:**

> Because I'm apparently working my way through Cal hurt/comfort featuring all the Mantis crew, it's Merrin's turn. Established Cal/Merrin, some nudity but no smut.

“Jeez, what is that smell?”

Before Merrin can ask what he’s talking about, the smell hits her too and she grimaces, one hand coming up to cover her nose and mouth. “It smells like something died.”

“No, something dying would be less disgusting,” Greez says, as if the smell has personally offended him. “That smells like something died, got eaten by a scazz, and then got thrown up again a few days later when it was nice and rotting.”

Merrin gags a little at the description. “Vivid.”

“Lateros have a great sense of smell, what can I say,” Greez says. “Go get rid of it, would you?”

“Me?”

“Look, I’ve learned a lot in my time with this crew,” Greez says, “and rule number one is that if something smells fishy, it’s a problem for a Jedi to deal with. And this is way worse than fishy.”

“I am not a Jedi!”

Greez waves away her objection. “Well, if you hadn’t noticed, I’m kind of low on actual Jedi at the minute so a night witch is my best alternative.”

Merrin narrows her eyes. “Nightsister.”

“Is that not what I said? Look, just go-”

They both fall silent when they hear a thump on the ramp of the _Mantis_ and Merrin allows magick to gather in her palm when she whips around to face the intruder. 

“Stay back!” she yells at the same time as Cal says, “Whoa!”

A new wave of the stench wafts towards them when Cal holds his hands up in surrender and Merrin lets her magick dissipate as she looks him over. 

He’s a mess. There’s some kind of putrid gunk splattered over him from head to toe, staining his clothes and skin a greenish brown, and there are chunks of what look like flesh clinging to him as he limps his way up the ramp in front of them. BD-1 follows at what can only be described as a sheepish distance, clean as always, and once Cal is safely aboard, he scampers away to perch on the kitchen counter.

“What in the hell happened to you?” Greez asks, backing away and waving a hand in front of his face. “Why are you stinking up my ship?”

Cal looks and sounds exhausted when he says, “Skunguses.” Merrin thinks he frowns, although it’s hard to tell beneath the slime. “Skungi? Skungeese?”

“Skunguses,” Merrin clarifies.

Cal nods miserably. “Whatever you call them. There was a pit. They, uh. They weren’t happy to have me there.”

“They ain’t the only ones,” Greez says, scowling. “What, you thought you’d go for a roll in skungus juice and then come back to spread that smell to my whole ship?”

BD-1 beeps in firm agreement, as if he and Cal have already had this argument.

“I fell,” Cal tries. “They explode! I couldn’t-”

“I know what they do!” Greez grumbles. “I can see chunks of them all over you. You couldn’t find a pond or something to splash around in on your way back?”

Cal shakes his head, looking down at the floor in embarrassment, and Greez throws his hands up. “Go shower, before you start dripping any more of that crap on my floor. Go, go!”

Dejected, Cal trudges towards the bathroom. The smell doesn’t seem to dissipate when he goes, lingering in the air still, and Merrin feels some sympathy stir beneath the nausea. 

Grumbling something about scented candles, Greez goes to rummage in one of the storage panels by the cockpit and Merrin scoops up the medical kit from the kitchen cabinet. BD-1 beeps out what Merrin assumes is a question and she explains, “I’m just going to check on him.” Then, in case the small droid needs reassurance, “He’ll be okay.”

BD-1’s answering beep sounds more suspicious than relieved but Merrin figures she’s done all she can as she follows Cal’s scent to the bathroom. She’s had enough near misses with skunguses to know how much damage they can do, and she knocks on the bathroom door just as the shower turns on. 

“I know, Greez!” Cal calls through the door. “I’ll clean it up once I’m not dripping skungus juice everywhere.”

Merrin shudders but steels herself as she knocks again. “Cal, it’s me. I thought you might need some help.”

There’s a clatter from inside the bathroom, followed by a yelp and some cursing from Cal, and she taps her foot while she waits for the door to open. It finally slides open, revealing a still slime-covered Cal with a towel wrapped around his waist, and Merrin sighs as she steps inside and locks the door behind her. “You know you’re supposed to wash yourself before you use the towels?”

Cal scowls. A glob of skungus ooze drips from his chin. “What was I supposed to do, just open the door naked?”

Merrin shrugs. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

It’s hard to tell but she’s pretty sure he’s blushing underneath the gunk. “That isn’t- You-” he stammers before waving to the door. “What if it was Greez?”

“Do you really expect Greez to come near you when you smell like that?”

Cal’s shoulders sag. “Can we save making fun of me for when I smell less like a toilet?”

He sounds pathetic and Merrin wonders when exactly she started finding that endearing.

“I came to help,” she says, holding up the medical kit with a small smile. “I wouldn’t brave this smell for just anyone, you know. Now go rinse yourself off so I can see how much of that is skungus and how much is bruising.”

Cal hesitates, clutching the towel in his filthy hands as though Merrin hasn’t already explored every inch of his body multiple times, but as more slime trickles from his hair, he finally drops the towel and climbs naked into the shower. 

While he rinses himself off, Merrin tidies up the bathroom as best she can, dropping Cal’s soaked clothes and the now-dirty towel down the laundry hatch and spritzing some freshener to reduce the intensity of the stench. The water shuts off after a minute or so, and Merrin steps back as Cal peers out of the shower, trying and failing to cover himself with his hands as he says, “I, uh- Could you pass me a towel?”

“No,” Merrin says flatly. “You’re not getting another one dirty.” She holds the shower door open with one hand, leaving Cal standing in the small cubicle, and she motions for him to turn around with the other. “Let me see how bad the damage is.”

He’s definitely blushing now, the pink flush spreading down over his chest and shoulders, and Merrin frowns as she leans in to flick some gunk off his shoulder. “Why are you suddenly so shy?”

“Maybe because I’m standing here naked while you poke at me?” Cal says. “Just for instance.”

“I’ve seen you naked lots of time,” Merrin points out, wiping at a smudge on his back only to find it’s a dark bruise. “Why are you self-conscious now?”

“Because that’s different.” His words accompanied by that little sigh of impatience he gets sometimes when their logic doesn’t mesh. However, rather than annoyance, there’s just embarrassment in his voice when he says, “That’s… sex, mostly. Or at least being in bed together. And you’re naked too.”

Merrin looks down at herself. “I can take my clothes off if that would make you feel better?”

She doesn’t miss the way Cal’s eyes go wide or the way his gaze flickers down her body, but he just shakes his head. “What? No, that- I didn’t mean-”

She slips her robe off her shoulders before he can finish whatever response he was aiming for. Setting the medical kit on the sink, she removes her clothes and underwear, hanging them on the hook on the back of the door, before picking up the kit and turning back to Cal, now equally naked, albeit much less injured. “Better?”

Cal’s eyes linger on her breasts but his cheeks only go redder as he says, “I, uh…”

“Turn around,” Merrin orders. “Let me see those bruises.”

He does, facing the wall of the shower cubicle, and Merrin steps in close to inspect his wounds. The spikes of the skunguses have only scratched his skin in a couple of places, mostly on his arms and his sides where his clothing was thinnest, but the bruising from the explosions make up most of Cal’s injuries. 

His skin is mottled blue and purple, deep bruises blossoming in patches over his tailbone, spine, and shoulder blades, but when Merrin smoothes a hand over his ribs, she’s pleased to find that they don’t seem to be broken. 

“You’re lucky,” she says, “everything seems to be intact.”

“Yeah, real lucky,” Cal says, not without sarcasm. “Wish I could fall into a skungus nest every day.”

Rolling her eyes, Merrin reaches for her supplies and begins to rub bacta gel into a dark bruise to the left of his spine. “You know what I mean. Skungus encounters can be dangerous — you’re fortunate the explosions didn’t crush your ribs.”

“No, they just left me feeling like I’ve been trampled by an AT-AT,” Cal says. He groans as her fingers press against the bruise, one arm coming up to brace himself against the wall. “Make that a whole stampede of AT-ATs.”

“I’m being as careful as I can,” Merrin says. “The gel will help the bruising heal faster.”

Cal exhales, resting his forehead against the wall too as he says quietly. “I know. Thank you.”

Unsure how to respond to that, Merrin just hums in acknowledgement as she goes to work on the rest of his back. The gel makes her fingertips tingle and from the way goosebumps rise on Cal’s skin, it’s having a similar effect on him. She works along the expanse of his shoulders, cleaning the skin and then applying the gel, and she feels the movement of Cal’s ribs beneath her fingers with every inhale and exhale.

She’s seen his scars before, has even asked about a couple in the quiet of the afterglow, but it’s only when she’s focusing so intently on his skin that she realises just how many he has. They’re everywhere, gouges and welts and burns criss-crossing the canvas of his back, and Merrin can’t help but press a kiss to the back of his neck in sympathy.

Cal starts, glancing back over his shoulder with a confused little smile. “What was that for?”

“You have many scars,” Merrin says by way of explanation.

She feels it in her fingertips when his shoulders tense up. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“I know,” she says, “but it’s usually dark. They look worse in the light.”

Cal hunches in on himself and Merrin knows she’s said the wrong thing when he stutters, “They- I can use the gel myself. You don’t need to-”

“It isn’t an insult,” Merrin says, hoping to clarify, but she doesn’t make any move to stop applying the gel. “Just an observation. You can’t help the scars you bear.”

“Could’ve been less clumsy at the scrapyard,” Cal says with an embarrassed shrug, “or avoided falling into a skungus nest.”

“The skungus nest won’t leave a scar,” she promises, smoothing a thumb over an old burn scar on his hip. “Is that where the rest are from? The scrapyard?”

Cal nods. “Most of them. They weren’t really big on safety precautions on Bracca.” His hand darts up to touch the old blaster scar on his jaw as he murmurs, “A couple from before Bracca too.”

He hasn’t told her about that one but she’s heard him talk in his sleep enough to take a decent guess. 

“Nightbrothers are proud of their scars,” she says, crouching down to reach a bruise on the back of his thigh. “Scars show that Dathomir has not beaten them, and that they are strong enough to endure.” She stands back up and orders, “Turn.”

Cal does, still holding a hand awkwardly over his crotch, but Merrin ignores it as she inspects a bruise on his knee instead. 

“Hey, Dathomir didn’t beat me either,” he says with a nervous smile. “You think I’d make a good nightbrother?”

“No,” Merrin says flatly.

Cal blinks at her as she pushes herself to her feet. “Wow.” He smiles again. “I guess nightbrothers did get their scars in battle instead of in industrial accidents.”

Merrin shakes her head as she asks, “Do you want to be a nightbrother?”

“Well, no,” Cal admits, “but it’s the principle, right?”

“Nightbrothers are obedient,” she says, rubbing gel into the bruise on his chest. “They serve, _served_ , the nightsisters but they were not good at thinking for themselves. They are like a weapon, at their best when put to use in the heat of battle.”

Cal tilts his head and Merrin takes the opportunity to move in to treat the final bruise over his collarbone. “Am I not a good weapon?”

“No,” Merrin says again and gives Cal a kiss when his lips form a tiny pout, “and that is why you would not be a good nightbrother. You are willful, creative, far more than just a blunt instrument for someone to wield.” Setting the gel on a shelf, she loops her arms around his neck as she leans in to kiss him again, his lips soft and hesitant against her own. “Besides, you have far more uses than simply being on a battlefield.”

Cal laughs at that, letting his nose bump against hers as he rests his hands on her bare hips. “And what kind of uses did you have in mind?”

“Lifting heavy things,” Merrin lists off. “Unblocking the pipes, picking up supplies, doing laundry-”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Cal cuts in, laughing. “I’m glad you think so much of me.”

“You’re very useful,” Merrin agrees.

At that, Cal kisses her again, light and teasing, and Merrin allows her body to press up against his as she returns it eagerly. Their tongues slide together, the unfortunate skungus incident forgotten for a moment, but when Merrin moves in, backing Cal up against the wall of the cubicle, he breaks away with a wince. “Shit-”

“I’m sorry,” Merrin says, stepping back quickly. “You should clean up and then get some rest. The bruises will heal soon.”

The look he gives her is somehow both pitiful and tempting but Merrin’s resolve holds firm when he says, “It was just a bump. I’m fine.”

Merrin looks down at the bruises littering his body as she says, “That would be more convincing if you were less purple.” She darts in for another quick kiss anyway, intending to dress and exit right after, but she laughs in surprise when Cal seizes his moment to tug her fully into the cubicle with him and flick the water back on.

It’s cold as it hits her skin but it heats in a matter of seconds, and she angles her face to avoid the spray as she aims an accusing glare at Cal. “I said you needed to rest.” 

“You said I needed to clean up first,” he points out. “I’m injured, remember? I need some help washing the rest of the skungus goo out of my hair.”

Merrin wrinkles her nose but closes the shower door behind her anyway. “You really know how to appeal to women, don’t you?”

Cal shrugs, his earlier shyness about his nudity now disappearing. “Maybe just the one woman…”

Unable to keep the smile off her face, Merrin pokes one of his bruises and smirks when he yelps. “I am not doing this every time you get hurt,” she tells him, their noses almost touching as she holds his gaze. “You have too many scars already. Next time you fall in a skungus nest, I will just hose you down outside.”

Cal grins. “Promise?”

Rolling her eyes, Merrin pulls him in for another kiss, if only to shut him up. The stench of the gunk has mostly gone, replaced with the chemical scent of the bacta gel, and between the warmth of the water and the heat of Cal’s body against her own, Merrin finds herself relaxing fully for the first time in days.

Apparently even a near-death experience in a skungus nest has its advantages.


End file.
